


home is wherever I’m with you

by MessedUpMessages



Category: Dream SMP- fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: DsmpPhilza is Not a Good Father, Everyone here needs therapy, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, LITERALLY, Tags will be updated as we goooo, as a treat, but I will make him Slightly Better, but that’s a given, dream can have a small bit of redemption, i need a family dynamic okay, just let me live, no beta we die like alivebur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessedUpMessages/pseuds/MessedUpMessages
Summary: It’s always been the discs, from the beginning. But it’s not the discs themselves that have the power to tear apart nations- or even to unite them.It’s just a kid, wanting to go home.Basically;Kind of a high fantasy magic sort su of the dream SMP as well as some bits of before- most of the canon will be followed but I’m taking creative liberties and changing what I wantVery much subject to alteration throughout because I like fixing things, expect inconsistent updates
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhh  
> Hi?  
> Minecraft men are living in my head rent free nowadays  
> In case that isn’t evident  
> So I guess take this  
> It’s probably full of grammatical and punctuation errors but oH WELL
> 
> No guarantees I finish it, but I’ve got a beginning and an end, so I guess we’ll see if I can get ahold of the middle
> 
> Title and possibly chapter titles(if I can get my crap together) from home by Edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros

His first memory was of music.  
Not a true memory that he could recall at will, more of a subconscious association that materialized occasionally under the right circumstances.  
Phil played cat and mellohi before bedtime, a lullaby, Wilbur told him later(on one of his good days when they crouched in a cave, yearning for a nation soon to burn by his own hand). Tommy liked the memory- soft edged and gilded, hazed as blurred by the dream-like halycon illusion of memory. The image of a hand(fuzzy and in distinct from being seen with sleep deprived eyes) placing a disc in a music box.  
Cat was the smell of a spruce fire, the smell of clean feathers, of wood varnish. The smell of slightly burnt cranberry bread in the stove, it was knowing it would taste alright anyway.  
Mellohi was Wilbur's hugs, Techno ruffling his hair, Tubbos laugh and smile, Phil's wings wrapping him in safety and warmth.  
That was mellohi, that was Cat, that was music.  
That was home. 

He thought techno would leave first. Everyone thought techno would leave first, but it was Wilbur, chasing dreams of leadership and glory. Wilbur left because he wanted to build something of his own. Techno just wanted to fight, but Wilbur wanted to create. He wasn’t a builder, but it wasn’t hard to find someone who was, and from there nothing lay behind his grasp.  
Techno had gone almost a year later. He sent messages every couple of weeks- he was alive, he was eating properly, and he was obliterating the competition. The Hypixel arena never stood a chance.  
It took several months before tommy worked up the courage to ask tubbo about leaving, to explore and see the worlds cluttering the nexus, but a letter from Wilbur finally took them to the point of decision. Their big brother had made some friends, and begrudgingly, he extended an invite to his siblings- come play.  
Tommy left because techno had left, because Wilbur was asking for them, because tubbo was going to go without him. He wasn’t ready to leave, but he wasn’t prepared to be left behind.  
So Tommy went. He took the music with him, a dagger from technoblade, a fistful of philzas feathers, and tubbo, and they followed Wilbur into the unknown. 

SMP earth was glorious, a reveling in their fleeting childhood innocence. It flew by in a blur of shrieked laughter, but Wilbur got bored.  
He did that a lot. He got bored of little things, small irritations.  
He found something better- something that might be able to entertain them.  
Dream lured them in with a smile and a purring voice, and even as they entered the portal to a new world- tommy clutching his discs in one hand and tubbos wrist in the other- he knew this would end in disaster.


	2. Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first real chapter pog, tommy pov  
> might update chapter titles eventually but ehhhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _claps hands once_  
>  so  
> I'm back
> 
> a bit of things to note
> 
> I have a ridiculous amount of lore and worldbuilding planned out for this fic, as well as two semi-divergent story lines. the problem with this is that there's gonna be some stuff that is confusing because i haven't explained it yet, but I'm not realllly sure how to fix that yet without infodumping and I don't want to do that  
> so basically, I have a lives system, a worlds system, a magic system, etc, as well as a few other things, but I guess for now I'll leave them a bit ambiguous since I don't want to shoehorn them in.  
> also each chapter has two parts- the first and largest part will be current time, post exile(shhh I know I'm like 5 arcs behind, I'm slow okay), and there will be a shorter bit at the end that is usually covering an event that happened before tommys exile, whether it be something in the smp or something that happened tot he character before they joined the smp  
> hope that makes sense, if not  
> welp
> 
> enjoy!

It was raining as they left L’Manburg.  
Not the kind of lashing rain that left you soaked in seconds, adrenaline filled and exhilarating. Not the kind of rain that drizzles, loud and constant, patters on the windows.  
Gentle, soft rain, The kind that leaves behind a silence that swallows you up whole.  
Tommy could see Tubbo on the wall, shoulders hunched as if carrying a weight. He couldn’t find it in him to feel much sympathy. Fundy and quackity flanked him, impassive.  
Dream lead without hesitation, as if he knew Tommy wouldn’t run, would try to escape.  
He didn’t even think he would, if he wanted to.  
“Where are we going,” he asked tiredly, not really expecting an answer. Dream’s blank face only tilted fractionally as he spread out an arm, gesturing expansively to the rain tossed waters before them.  
“Wherever the river takes us.”  
Tommy just blinked at the water for a minute.  
“I thought I was just exiled from l’manburg?”  
Dream laughed, and pulled a boat from his inventory. It’s not a nice laugh, and it’s not a very nice boat. “Oh no Tommy. Not just L’Manburg. you’re exiled from everywhere that has been touched. You can’t come near civilization on this server ever again.”  
He felt anger boil in his chest, and he growled. “What the hell,” he seethed. “You can’t-“  
“On the contrary, I control this server, I can do whatever the fuck I like,” he snarled back. “So get in the damn boat or I-“  
“Hello Dream!” A wavering voice hollered from the tree line. “Are you and Tommy going on a trip?  
Dream stared at Ghostbur, then shifted his gaze to Tommy. “Is he uh, is he coming?”  
“I don’t know”  
Dream turned and called to the ghost, cupping his hands around where his mouth would be to yell over the rain. “Are you coming?”  
Ghostbur subtle glow pulsed brighter for a moment before fading again as he drifted over, feet moving with the impression of walking but leaving no footsteps. “Ooh, I’d love to!” He chirped excitedly, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “Where are we going?”  
“A long ways away, ghostbur.” Dream said. “Are you ready?”  
“Of course,” he said gleefully, clambering into the boat, Tommy following.  
“I’m not ready,” Tommy whispered, but no one heard him, and as the obsidian walls of L’Manburg faded into the haze, he wasn’t sure if anyone wanted to hear anyway.  
He knew he shouldn’t have burned down George’s house. But he was so angry, not outwardly, just a roiling constant bubble of irritation directed towards Dream. Dream, who had taken away so much of what he cared for, Dream, who had driven his brother to insanity with gentle nudges, Dream, who had ruined everything time and time again.  
George’s house was an outlet- he would say he was sorry, he knew George hadn’t gotten involved in many of the wars, but he saw them laughing with Sapnap last week, and he turned his sights on a more realistic target.  
He couldn’t touch Dream, there was nothing that could be done by himself.  
But George on the other hand.  
He didn’t mean for Ranboo to get involved, the kid(he ignored the fact that the enderman is probably older than him, hell, he shouldn’t have to deal with this, he’s just as much a kid, he’s 16 for fucks sake) doesn’t deserve to take the fall for Tommy’s childish lashings. He’s self aware to know when he hurts people, knew he hurt Tubbo, knew he fucked up, knew he should minimize damage.  
So he covered for Ranboo. It wasn’t fooling anyone, they all knew he was involved, but on paper he saved him from sharing the same fate he has now.  
Maybe he did something right, he mused as rain slowly soaked his clothes through.  
“How does this look?” Dream called from the front of the boat, ghostbur scrambling forward to look over the prow at the island emerging from the rainmist. Tommy leaned forward to look before remembering he was sulking, and slouched back with a huff.  
“It looks terrible,” he scowled. “I want to go home.”  
He knew he sounded like a child. But what did anyone care about that anyway. They never had before.  
“Let's stay here Tommy!” Ghostbur said happily, pointing at the island. “It’s a perfect vacation spot, it’s got trees, a river, and some sheep!”  
Tommy didn’t reply.  
The hull scraped stone and sand, and Dream dragged the boat onto shore moments later, tying it to a tree. Tommy jumped out and huffed as water splashed into his boots.  
“Great,” he grumbled. “You know, I really do hate you Dream.”  
The masked man let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay Tommy,” he chuckled. “you don’t hate me”  
“No, I’m pretty sure I do.”

Dream built them a dirt hut. Wow.  
How generous.  
Tommy stood in the corner, arms crossed, face blank. Ghostbur drifted around in the roofed section, humming. It only took a few minutes for Dream to return, and when he did he produced a fistful of his signature green magic as scooped out a hole in the dirt. A second later he turned to Tommy, gesturing to the pit.  
“Put your armor in the hole. All of your things.”  
Tommy blinked. “What? No, i don’t have to do that, you’ve already exiled me, you can’t take my things/“  
“If you don’t,” Dream said simply, “I’ll kill you.”  
Tommy met his eyeless face, the hand holding a clump of emerald magic that could kill him in seconds, the netherite sword at his hip, and relented. “fine.” He spat, opening his inventory.  
Dreams mask just kept smiling, even as Tommy emptied his inventory into the hole, even as all his gear combusted into ash, scorched by green flames.  
He kept smiling even as he left them in the middle of nowhere with nothing to defend themselves bar ghostburs tools, nothing to eat, nothing to live in.  
Tommy kicked the earth and screeched in frustration at that green, smiling face, even as its back vanished out of sight, rowing away.  
Ghostbur was far too cheerful about the whole thing, chattering happily about his plans even as they huddled in their dirt shack. It was almost insufferable, but Tommy would rather endure a spirit's mindless musings than the silence.  
Silence would give him time to think, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.  
But he still hated the positivity, it made him want to scream and hit something. So he did.  
The trees hurt him more than he hurt them, so he ended up by the shore, smashing his fist into the waves anytime they crept near him. The rain- perpetual since they had left- ran into his eyes, mingling with tears he’d never admit were there. He was an adult, a big man. There was no need for him to be crying in the surf like an angsty toddler.  
But it hurt anyways.  
The sun set below the horizon, bleeding the sky red and the water tangerine, and Tommy went back to the house.  
Ghostbur had built a fire, as well as he could with the constant drizzle, and the embers sprawled across a meter wide area in the center of the enclosure. He had crafted blankets from what wool he hadn’t given to Dream, and handed Tommy some of the steak Dream had left them.  
“You need to eat,” he insisted. He would have refused out of principle- he didn’t need pity steak- but he _was_ hungry. So he took the hit to his pride, took the steak, and took a seat next to the fire.  
“Thanks,” he said, almost mumbling. “I- thank you for coming with me, Ghostbur,” he said begrudgingly. “I appreciate it.”  
The ghost brightened, literally and figuratively, his form glowing a little brighter.  
“I’m glad!” He grinned. “We’re going to have so much fun Tommy, just wait!”  
Tommy forced a smile and ate his pity steak.  
When it got dark, and ghostbur faded into whatever ether he slept in and the fire had been blown out by the wind, and the rain blustered, he regretted.  
“I never should’ve burned down George's house,” he whispered to himself.  
Then he remembered Tubbos impassive face as he was escorted out of L’Manburg, remembered the sting of betrayal when no one spoke up against Dream, felt the chill of the night sweep over his roofless house, cutting through his coat like wet paper, and steeled his resolve.  
“I don’t regret anything,” he hissed. This was all Dream.

A couple people came to visit, a few days later. Sam offered him a place to stay, and bad came bearing gifts, including a music box and one glorious, shimmering disc, playing music strange but reassuring.  
Which is of course, when Dream had to show up in his menacing green glory.  
“Hello!” He called from a little ways away, meandering over. “How have you been, Tommy? Bad, it’s good to see you!”  
“Have you been well, Dream?” Bad asked politely. Dream shrugged. “Same old same old. Not enough to do, too much to do.”  
“Why are you here?” Tommy interjected, eager to get rid of him.  
The mask tipped to Tommy as if he had forgotten about him for a moment and suddenly remembered. “Oh yes,” he said. “Do you have something you want to put on the floor here?”  
Bad started forward as if to say something, but green magic flickered around Dreams face, and he retreated, dipping his head. Dream immediately turned back to Tommy, mask grinning triumphantly.  
“Yes,” he said with false bravado, chucking the red concrete onto the floor by Dream's boots. “Take it, it’s such a disgusting color.”  
“Anything else Tommy?”  
He closed his inventory swiftly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nope!”  
“I know there's something else you wanna drop down here,” Dream cajoled.  
Bad brushed past him, pressing his hand to Tommy's.  
_Give me the disc,_ He hissed in Tommy's head. _I’ll hide it for you._  
Tommy wanted to turn, but he couldn't risk the movement- in the instant when Dreams back was turned he opened his inventory, slipping the disc into Bad’s palm. The strange man immediately slunk away to a safe distance, eyes flashing as Dream scooped out a pit with his magic in seconds.  
“I don't reckon there is,” he spat, hugging his arms to himself. Dream laughed again- he hated that laugh.  
“How about your armor?”  
“No I actually earned this myself-“  
“Just drop it in the hole Tommy.”  
“You can’t just come and demand things from me,” he complained. “I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?”  
Magic swirled in Dreams fist, and Tommy took a stuttering step back, unbuckling his armor with shaking fingers. “Okay, fine, fine, take it, here-”  
The iron armor fell into the cave with a clang, and Dream threw a handful of magic down a second later. Emerald smoke drifted upwards, and Tommy bit his lip to silence himself.

At first he resisted every day, clinging to his armor and gear, ending the night with bruises and no blankets.  
Some days he went along with it just for one night with a fire and bedsheets, one night with food or torches.  
“Maybe this is good for me,” he would insist after Dream had left, and Ghostbur nodded encouragingly, hovering on his side. “maybe I’ll have- maybe I’ll reform, maybe it will be good for us out here- “  
Then he would remember Tubbo, and Ranboo, and L'manburg, and it would _hurt._  
His hand clenched on the door handle, and he sighed, slumping. “No, it’s not, it's not good for me, I miss my friends.”  
Ghostbur frowned. “You have me?”  
“Yeah, I know, but- never mind.”  
And the next day Dream would come for his hard earned things, and he would snap all over again. 

After a few weeks, he stopped fighting.  
It was always futile to keep Dream from what he wants, if there was one thing he had learned on this shitty server. He wasn’t sure why he had even come- he was happy at home with Phil, and Tubbo would have stayed if he’d asked. They could have let Wilbur go off and start L'manburg by himself, could have only experienced this hellscape through letters every few weeks-  
But Dream had cut off communications, hadn’t he. They wouldn’t have known what was happening, and Phil still would have had to come to their brother's aid, and Tommy and Tubbo would have been at his side.  
And it would have happened anyways.  
Same song, second verse, a little bit louder and a hell of a lot worse. 

————————————————

The first time he saw Dream was three weeks after they joined the server. The van was almost complete, and Tommy was wiping at one of the windows to clear it of sawdust when he saw a green man at the edge of the forest, face covered with a pearl-white smiling mask  
He squinted, and called for Wilbur- Tubbo appeared out of the back room as well.  
“Who’s that?” He asked. Wilbur bent to look, and stiffened.  
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be back”  
Tommy was about to bite out a response, but Wilbur looked serious, so for once he did as he was asked, returning to the window with Tubbo. Wilbur shut the door of the van behind him gently and wandered over to the man, hands shoved in his pockets unassumingly. He could barely make out voices, more of a mumble with no discernable words, and eventually Wilbur extended a hand and they shook. The green man melted back into the forest, and Wilbur headed back to the van.  
The second he stepped in they clamored for details, but Wilbur was quiet as he shooed them off with a simple- “that was Dream, the server owner. He invited us.”  
And that was that.  
The first time Tommy really met Dream was a week later, as he tended the garden to the tune of Cat spilling from the music box under a tree. His hoe clawed at the earth, and a shadow fell over it.  
Startled, he looked up, and nearly jumped at the moon pale face looming above him. Good grief this guy was tall.  
“Oh, hey,” he said slowly. “You’re Dream, right?”  
There was no response, but the mask tipped to the side, like an inquisitive cat. Tommy blinked, but barreled on. He had invited them, he must just be shy.  
“My names Tommy,” he said, and a voice like his dads spoke up in his head, whispering, manners! He flailed for a moment under Dreams scrutinizing gaze, but thrust out a hand like Wilbur had. “Thank you for inviting us!”  
There was no reaction for a long few seconds, long enough for Tommy to falter and lower his hand. Then, a second later, a rusty voice asked slowly-  
“What’s that noise?”  
Tommy looked over his shoulder at the music box, cat looping endlessly. “That’s music,” he said slowly. He knew music discs were hard to come by, but surely a builder like Dream would have come across one or two in his life. Or maybe he never had a music box to play them.  
“It’s music,” he said at last. “Pretty neat, right?” He grinned up at the mask, forcing himself to meet its eyes. Dream didn’t respond, just standing as still as a stone, until he suddenly whirled around and left.  
Tommy watched his retreating back, shooting him a skeptical glance.  
“What an odd dude.”


	3. Chapter 2- Techno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes this took forever to finish and literally doubles the length of the entire fic  
> Gonna check for errors tomorrow

Technoblade woke up some time before dawn, uneasy. It wasn’t a startling wake up, but it was certainly disconcerting, and he stared at the ceiling fruitlessly as he tried to go back to sleep. 

**Technosleep  
Mmm  
Bed bed bed  
You’ve forgotten something  
Shut up he’s asleep  
Green bastard is up to something  
Wait I liked that dream  
Sleepypog   
Dream?  
We don’t like Dream  
/rainbowchat **

The voices were… dissatisfied, if voices were even the best word- they were more like whining, commanding children, throwing tantrums, mocking, laughing, but above all, demanding. They asked for various things, like all children did, but what they asked for the most was blood.   
Typical.   
At the moment they were stirring, lulled into a thin complacency, but they were starting to awaken, his own active thoughts sparking off their latent dissonance. They wanted something, wanted him to do something, but they weren’t yet coherent enough to tell him. 

**Get up get up get up  
Remember!!   
Lazyblade   
Exileinnit  
Logs and apples  
We like apples!  
Road trip? **

His head ached for a moment then retreated, but he had a feeling sleep wouldn’t be returning to him that night-he’d just have to deal with it. The voices pulsed in a single note, trying to push at one message, but only succeeding in sharpening his pain to a headache. Seconds later he groaned in defeat, tossed aside the covers and stood, shuffling over to the window and throwing open the panes to the darkness and the moonlight, leaning his head out and inhaling deeply. The voices dispersed and quieted, drugged into a haze by his own half conscious state as well as the mesmerising stillness of the tundra, and he revelled in the bliss of a temporarily silent mind, if only for a moment.   
They- _he_ \- wasn’t always this muted in the nights. Sometimes they screamed like banshees, or howled like sirens, calling him to blood. He hated those nights, but tonight was a blessed exception, with only a few scattered calls for random tasks, or a soft litany of background chatter. He knew better than to assume it would stay that way, and he could guess how the rest of the day would go, but for now he could tune them out.   
He must have lost track of time as he stared out the window, because before he knew it the sun was rising, burnishing the snow the color of beaten copper. Some of the braver mobs remained in the open as the sun began to break the cloud cover, but most of the night's horrors sunk away into the caves riddling the tundra to wait out the day. The voices seemed to stir with the sunrise, reminding him of things that needed doing and pushing him to start the day. He hated to admit it, but they were excellent motivators, even if the things they wanted weren’t often… easily sated. But for now they seemed content for him to go about his daily routine, chattering happily as he fed Bob, visited with the villagers in the basement, collected honey from the hives, practiced his nether common with Hubert for an hour or so, and watched the turtles for a while.   
He shuffled back inside, hanging up his cloak as the day got warmer, and sighed.   
It was noon, and he had the entire day to be bored. The only thing left to do was to feed Carl- even the mention of the horse was enough to send the voices into a tizzy- so he headed back out, unearthing a bale of hay from the stack behind the house and shaking off the snow, heaving it over his shoulder and thumping it down into Carl’s stall unceremoniously. Carl snorted and leaned his heavy head over to lip at Technos arm playfully, blowing air forcefully from his nostrils as he happily dug into the hay. Techno leaned against the fence posts, rubbing his hand down Carl’s side as the horse ate, turning his communicator over in his hand contemplatively. It had been a few days since Phil had last checked in, and the communicator was eerily silent. As if sensing his worry, Carl left off his meal and pushed his head against Technos chest in a horsey form of comfort, hay stringing from his mouth. Techno smiled a little, scratching under his forelock until Carl swung his head back to the hay.   
Techno let out a sigh, giving Carl one last pat on his haunches before beginning to move towards the front door. Maybe he could read a book or something.   
The sound of his communicator alert rang out in the cold air like a bell. Techno flailed a little as he scrambled for the device, fumbling to get it into his hands. A distraction, finally. The screen flickered to life after a moment, the message emblazoned on the scratched and scuffed glass.   
A serverwide notice, sent out by Dream.   
_Tommyinnit. Exiled from the lands of the Dream SMP until further notice- sentence broken upon penalty of death. If seen within the greater SMP, kill on site.  
Well that was interesting. _  
Techno sighed, stretching. It would be something to do at least, and Carl hadn’t been out for a few days, long enough for him to start to get antsy- if the way his massive hooves were clawing at the earth was any indication. The greater SMP lands went pretty far out, but Techno was on the edges anyway, and he was pretty sure dream wouldn’t have bothered to go too far past the border. He could do a circuit of the perimeter, starting with the plains just to the east. If he couldn’t find him that way, he’d just ask the trees.   
He stomped his boots off on the stoop and ducked inside, grabbing a few things and tossing them into his inventory, then swept his cloak over his shoulders and returned to Carl with a saddle in tow. The stallion blew air from his nose in a long sigh, sloe-eyed, but when techno held up the tack he livened immediately, scraping at the ground with one steelshod, plate sized hoof. Techno snorted a laugh at his enthusiasm, Carl greeting the prospect of a trip with more energy than the food, now decimated and the remains strewn around the floor of the enclosure. He tossed his head eagerly as Techno buckled the girth and tightened his bridle straps, raring to run.   
“Chill out,” Techno muttered, opening the gate. “We’re only going to find Tommy, it’s nothing fancy.”

**Road trip!!  
Technoride  
SAVE TOMMY  
brotherinnit  
Carl! Carl!  
/rainbowchat  
Get the green bastard blob  
E  
The girth strap is too loose  
Heroblade   
E **

“What are you on about,” he growled absently, dropping the reins to tighten the girth strap despite himself. As much as the voices were insane, they did come up with some useful thoughts occasionally. Straightening, he used the fence slats to step up onto Carl’s back, gathering up the reins. “You’re absolutely bonkers, okay? I’m not saving Tommy, he doesn’t need to be saved. He’s in exile, being punished for his own actions. It’s character development, chat, and Carl, don’t even think about mocking me.I don’t care about him, this is his fault.”  
Carl just sneezed in laughter. Techno could have sworn he was smirking as he nudged his faithful steed into a trot towards the plains, letting himself relax for the first time that day. 

He managed to find Tommy after only one stop to speak with the oaks populating the fringes of the plains. They were none too pleased about the latest edition to their previously untouched woodland, and more than happy to direct him to Tommy.   
_Wood burner,_ they hissed. _Branch tearer._  
The voices seemed intrigued by talking to the trees, and he realised they had never seen him do it. He hadn’t used the path finding skills Phil had taught him in over a decade- the voices had only been haunting him for half that time.   
He shook his head as if to clear it, fruitlessly. Today was shaping up to be a day full of things trying to remind him of memories, and he didn’t like it. He just wanted to relax in retirement and not have to think about how everything had fallen apart so fast. Catching Carl from where he had wandered away in search of fresh grass, Techno followed the tree's instructions, heading towards the scent of saltwater. The soil shifted to sand not long before the ocean came into view, and moments after Techno could see the whole beach, yet untouched by footprints that morning. There was a thin smoke scent on the breeze that shook the dune grass, so Techno followed the coast until the column of smoke from a cookfire was visible over the sand. He slid off Carl’s back, loosening the girth and taking off his bridle, setting them at the base of the dunes and setting Carl loose to explore until he got back. The stallion charged into the surf the second he was released, kicking at the water in glee. Techno himself started into the dunes, the voices groaning complaints as he struggled through the shifting sand. 

**Technoslow  
EAT THE SAND  
Tommy Tommy Tommy  
Why is this sand so Sandy  
WALK FASTER  
the green bastard hurt him  
Kill him  
Rend his flesh  
Blood for the blood god  
Oooh look at the seagulls!  
Technosloooooooow **

He shook his head in frustration and the voices scattered to the winds, leaving him be. The sand finally levelled out into grasslands, and the stripped log walls of a compound-like structure came into view, signs tacked to the gateway. He would have to investigate in a moment, but the fire wasn’t from there. It was from about a little ways away, a few feet in front of a grungy white tent, the canvas already stained earthy red at the base from the backsplash of rain, flapping violently in the wind off the ocean. The fire was low, sputtering out clouds of white smoke as it died, so Techno searched about for a moment and found the wood pile, adding some more fuel to the rapidly dying flames. He brushed his hands off, turning to go investigate the log structure- the brine encrusted tent was clearly unoccupied- and was face to face with Wilbur.   
There was a brief second where Techno felt as though the balance of the world was wrong- felt as though something in the universe had gone gravely ill. He felt sideways, tilted, sick.   
Wilbur smiled, and everything slotted back to normal- as normal as it could get with his brother's warm yellow sweater torn across his chest in a hyacinth slash, royal blue dripping from his lips. His face was ashen and blue-grey, colourless. His usually lively brown eyes were blank, and his skin when he reached out to touch Technos hand was cold.   
“Wilbur?” He said at last, voice quieter than he intended. “Is that you?”  
The figure in front of him withdrew its hands from Technos hand. “Of course it’s me!” He laughed, and Techno was suddenly reminded of Wilbur before he left home. He has never sounded like this in Pogtopia, had never sounded like this at all since Techno joined this cursed server.   
“What happened, Wilbur?” He asked, figuring the most straightforward question would be the best.   
A glaze fell over Wilburs face. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean- how did you- end up like this?” On the verge of exasperation, Techno gestured to Wilburs body- the blue wound, the grey complexion, the general transparency of his body.   
Wilbur laughed again.   
“Oh! You don’t know what happened? It’s pretty simple really- remember when I blew up L’Manberg?”  
Techno barely managed to get out a confused ‘yes’ before this strange washed-out Wilbur barrelled onwards.   
“Well, after that, Phil came to see me while you guys were all fighting! Then, of course, I asked him to stab me, because nobody liked alivebur. It took a few days, but I came back, and look! I can float!”  
As if in demonstration, Wilbur drifted several inches off the ground, twirling in an effortless pirouette. Techno clicked his jaw shut from where it had gone slack in confusion.   
“And - you said _dad_ killed you?” He said hoarsely, ignoring the verbal slip of the admission of their relationship. Right now he didn’t care.   
Wilbur nodded vigorously. “I asked him to! He wasn’t very happy about it, but I convinced him.” He frowned, pouting almost comically. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks, he hasn’t come and visited logstedshire. I think Tommy misses him. I don’t know why he hasn’t come to visit.”  
He falls silent, and suddenly hacks a horrible wet cough, brightening a split second afterwards as though it never happened. “Have you come to see Tommy? He’ll be so happy to see you, only a few people have come to see us. He might be busy today since he’s getting armour, but he’ll be so excited you’ve come to visit!”  
Techno winced, head spinning as he adjusted to the abrupt change in topic from ‘Wilbur is a ghost now’ to ‘Tommy’s in exile’. Wilbur was looking at him expectantly so he mustered up a half smirk, folding his arms like a shield from the situation. “Alright then. Where- uh, where is he Wilbur?”  
The spirit seemed to waver, thinking, before whirling around and drifting towards the jagged opening of a cave in between the tent and the log structure- that must have been the logstedshire he had mentioned. It reminded Techno uncomfortably of the forts they would build as children, in their home world in Philza’s forest.  
Techno followed Wilbur into the cave, snagging a torch from his inventory and lighting it to illuminate the hacked open walls of the cave, the shallowest sections clearly looted for all its worth if the long pickaxe gouges were anything to go by. Techno wondered why Tommy was bothering to dig deeper when he had obviously gotten all the iron he would have needed for armour several times over, but he decided it was none of his problem if his brother wanted to mine himself to death. Most likely he’d get bored before he got into much trouble.   
The torchlight, previously reflecting on close-hewn stone, abruptly dimmed as they entered a much larger cavern, walls too far to flicker properly. An orange glow pulsed from the far side, illuminating a figure hacking at the stone by the light of a lit furnace, pickaxe sending stone flecks flying through the air. Techno stopped before he could help himself, letting Wilbur float on ahead and tap the figure's shoulder.   
“Tommy!” Techno could hear him chirp. “Look! Technos come to see you!”  
Tommy froze, shoulders tensed. The pick axe clattered to the ground in a spray of stone dust, and he turned.   
Techno made the conscious decision to hold himself still as Tommy’s fractured blue eyes met his own, narrowing in suspicion as he registered who was in front of him.   
“Techno?” He said, sounding surprised, and slightly irritated. “What the fuck are you doing here?”   
His voice was dull, lacklustre despite the words intended to sting. Techno couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong, but he shoved it down viciously.   
“Do I need an excuse to wander into a cave?” He retorted. Tommy eyed him tiredly, like he was too exhausted to protest the obvious bluff.   
“I felt like coming to visit,” Techno admitted(a half truth), shrugging, tamping down the niggling tug of wrongness. “Wanted to see what trouble you buried yourself in this time. Is that so surprising?”  
Tommys face twisted, like he was trying to restrain a bitter smile. “Lets go outside.” He said quietly, leading the way out of the cave. 

He couldn’t help but laugh, at first, as the story began to spill unfiltered from Tommy’s mouth. It was so typically Tommy- his fiery personality was never suited for mundane tasks, and this flaming heap of a server had drained him of something childish that made him _Tommy._ He reacted by lashing out- this server did that to everyone, drug out the worst parts of themselves and fed it like a ravenous beast.   
He wasn’t really surprised that Tubbo had given in to Dream, the boy’s weakness had always been his addiction to validation, and with a drought of mentor figures in the newly restored L’Manburg Dream was the default authority figure.   
Techno leaned against a log thrown lengthwise next to the fire pit, the first spots of rain splotching his coat. Tommy poked at the embers with a stick, a cod wrapped in oak leaves cooking slowly on the rocks making up the ring around the pit. His eyes were downcast, and he had sunk into a sullen silence a few minutes ago. Absently, he rubbed at his arm, and Technos eyes flicked to the blood still caked on his shirt.   
“What happened?” He asked, breaking the quiet. Tommy flicked his hair out of his eyes, glancing at his arm.   
“What happened? Where- oh, that.” He scuffed at it a little. “That was yesterday, Dream pushed me into a rock. I didn’t have armour on because I hadn’t gotten it that day yet, so it did more damage than he had thought it would.”  
“Dream did what?” He asked sharply, alarm bells ringing. The voices yelped and snarled. 

**Green bastard teletubbie  
TECHNOPROTECT  
Brotherinnit is sad  
Protect protect protect  
E  
E  
Technosoft   
Kill the green man  
Blood for the blood god  
Protect  
Watch him keep him safe **

Tommy shrugged. “It’s fine, he gave me a healing potion afterwards so it’s good as new, and he even let me keep my armour that evening.”  
Techno fell silent, fist clenching. Little things were piling up, but he couldn’t see what they connected to. The lack of armor. The quiet. The presence of Dream. “Tommy,” he said slowly. “Do you feel happy here?”  
Tommy stopped for a second to consider before immediately returning to the ore before him. “I mean, it’s not perfect, but it’s not actually half bad living out here. It’s what I deserve. L’Manberg wouldn’t be better anyways, they made it clear I wasn’t welcome.”  
“Was d- was Phil there?”  
Tommy snorted, face twisting in the first real emotion Techno had seen from him yet today. “Dad is never there Techno,” he spat, resolutely looking away. “At least not for me. He was probably off at one of his stashes.”   
Techno didn’t answer. He didn’t have one. As much as he loved Phil, he knew he had flaws. He did his best, but somehow it wasn’t enough, wasn’t what they needed. He couldn’t deny that.  
The conversation died away after that. Tommy refused to talk, and Techno didn’t have much else to say, and Wilbur had bolted the second they started speaking about anything serious. So after half an hour of uncomfortable silence next to a steaming fire in the perpetual drizzle of rain, Techno left, finding Carl, putting his soaked tack back on, and riding away.   
He took it all in stride- Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo. He wasn’t surprised Phil had been willing to do the hard job of taking out Wilbur, he had never been afraid of a messy situation before. He wasn’t surprised Tommy had pushed his luck too far too long, and he wasn’t surprised Dream had strained Tubbo’s admittedly weak resolve until it snapped.   
He left the plains troubled, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. After returning Carl to his stable, he contemplated going inside and forgetting the whole incident. It didn’t concern him. He stood next to the fence, staring absently at the ground.   
Carl eyed him from his enclosure, snorting incredulously. Techno blinked, then scowled, brushing snow off his shoulders.   
“Don’t you snort at me,” he growled. “I don’t need you judging me too.”  
Carl just flicked an ear, snagging a mouthful of his remaining hay and turning his back on him. The unspoken ‘l won’t say I told you so’ hovered in the air.   
Techno headed for the door with every intention of walking inside, shedding his layers, and curling up with a book in front of the fire.   
But he hated not knowing things, and hated being left in the dark, so he groaned and headed for the nether portal that would take him to the main hub. L’manberg had the highest population on the smp, there was bound to be someone who could give him the answers he needed- namely, what the hell made Dream so pissed off.   
However, he couldn’t just waltz into lmanberg and ask Tubbo what had gone down. The kid had made it very clear that Techno was no longer his sibling, even if the bond had been fragile to begin with. So lmanburg was out. But there might be one place he could stop by to at least get more information. 

L’Manberg had cleaned up nicely. He knew distantly that they had rebuilt, but it was another thing to see the thick trunks supporting platforms and walkways above the crater Phil had told him he was slowly filling with water. He had to admit, the place was beautiful. It would almost be a shame when it inevitably went downhill, but at least he wasn’t getting involved.   
Techno skirted around the edge of the main buildings, heading for the path, following it until it left lmanburg lands. Dusk was falling, and the cover of night was his biggest advantage. Redstone activated lanterns began to flick on along the path, casting an orange glow that could light his way even if he didn’t walk directly on the boardwalk.   
The cliff above the river was a dark wall looking over the path back to L’Manberg, but lights glowed in the house clinging to the grassy top, lighting the skinny goat trail upwards with watery yellow light. Techno diverged from the boardwalk and headed for the base of the cliff, beginning to pick his way up the steep and winding path, letting out a thankful huff of relief as it levelled off. There were only a few houses on the cliffs, and as far as he knew most were regularly unoccupied. Redstone lamps illuminated the doorways of every house, but only one had firelight shimmering on the plate glass windows. Techno stepped up to the door and rapped on it briefly, stepping back into the shadows to wait for whoever was home to open the door. There was a loud scuffling from inside, the sound of a bolt and lock being thrown, then two men slammed open the door, scowling, weapons held at the ready. One of them stepped forward, waving a shovel above his head and hollered as he looked around wildly, “If you’re one of those brats from across the river, you can fuck right off!”   
Techno couldn’t help but snort, stepping into the light of the lamps. Their faces paled a little, but they quickly recovered.   
“Heard you’re new here,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if you know who I am, but I need information on what happened several weeks ago.”  
The shorter one cackled, black eyes scrunching. “What _doesn’t_ happen around here man? This server has been nothing but trouble since we joined, which particular incident are you referring to?”  
“A man in green may have started to build an obsidian wall around the town,” he said slowly. “And he left with a boy a few days later.”  
The two exchanged glances. “We saw the green dude building the wall,” the shorter man said. “But we didn’t see anything else, I think. We don’t go over there a lot, they’re not big fans of us and we’re not super happy with them.”  
“They’ve been stealing our shit man,” the shovel wielder complained. “My axe went missing weeks ago.”  
“Then we have a common- I won’t say enemy, but at least a common annoyance.” Techno said amicably. These fools didn’t even recognise him. Where had they been for the last decade. The two men exchanged a look, then shrugged, the man with the shovel leaning his unconventional weapon against the wall of the house and extending a hand to Techno.   
“My name is Lazar,” he said. “And this is Vikkstar. If we’re stuck in this server from hell together, might as well get to know you.”  
Techno let himself smile a little bit around his tusks, shaking the man’s hand. “Sounds good to me.” He said. “I’m Techno- I’m not actually allowed to be in this area, so you won’t see me all the time, but I like to keep up with the news. If trouble starts, I’ll know.”   
Vikkstar grinned from ear to ear. “Good to know we’re not the only ones they don’t like,” he said. “I guess we’ll see you when we see you.”  
Techno dipped his head, and something visibly connected on Lazar's face.   
“Wait a second- Technoblade?” His voice was confused. “Is that you?”   
Vikkstar squinted before starting as well, eyes wide.   
Techno shrugged. “Maybe.”  
“What happened to you man? It’s been months- you just vanished from Hypixel, people thought you had been banned or something.”  
“I didn’t get banned. Something came up. I was invited here by dream after my brothers sent for me, but he never said why, and the whitelisting has been closed ever since I joined. The only time it opened was when- two months ago.”  
“When that place got blown to shit?”  
“Exactly. We’re not sure why it was opened, but a few people got through. Dream hasn’t said anything about why.”  
“So why come to us?” Vikkstar asked, perplexed, slouching against the doorframe and quirking a brow.   
“You’re just the closest. I figured you might have seen something. They’re not too big a fan of me over there, so if anyone asks, I was never here.”  
He refastened his cloak from where it had started to slip, turned to go, and paused for a moment. “For future reference, what’s your stance on governments?”

————————————————

Techno was never really a believer of the old stories. A sceptic at heart, he had listened along as Phil had read the tales of the creators to the smaller boys, attempting to align the fantasy of all powerful beings with what he knew of the world- the rules of magic, the laws of the natural order.  
It never quite made sense.  
Perhaps growing up around Phil with his own wood magic buzzing in the air near constantly numbed him to the awe the stories should have inspired. Phil’s power had limits- forest guardians were strong, steeped in the life force of the trees surrounding them, but they could not restore lost lives.   
But the stories he told of the originals, the ones at the beginning and the ends of all the worlds and servers, were irrational, illogical.  
So he didn’t think they were true. It was as simple at that. He grew up surrounded by magic, surrounded by those born of magic, and didn’t believe in anything more. And why should he? The simple powers of those around him- Tubbo practically glowing with his yellow magic on good days, gold lacing through the thin grooves of his stubby horns, the electric blue of Tommy’s aura, the chestnut brown and sometimes flickering red of Wilbur’s siren songs, the sulphur charge of Sam’s explosions- they made sense.   
And even if these beings were real, they didn’t seem to affect his life, so why should he care?  
He headed for Hypixel with the same cool logic he’d grown to treasure, the only way to make sense of things, and quickly established himself as a force to be reckoned with. He knew he was good, but before Hypixel he had never gone against anyone near his calibre. The first few months were fought, and he learned slowly.   
The Monday Massacres were the catalyst for his success. The rough and tumble arena, no holds barred approach to dueling, the brawl of the first few minutes showed him how those in Hypixel fought. They taught him the skills he had been lacking in the duels, and eventually, he outgrew them.   
The Hypixel arenas became his playground, the place where his name was feared as the Blood God, undefeated. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention, the glory that came with his reputation, but being the best did have its downsides. it was _boring_. He had beaten those several times stronger than him, human, composite, magic-spawn- and won. His rank on the scoreboards was gathering dust from how long it had been stationary, and no one had come near it in months. And now, he had nothing to do.  
The duels were pointless- he always won. All the competitions, all the records had been shattered by his scores. It was all _so mundane._ He was left to train and beat the pulp out of the newest competitors, fresh meat thrown directly into the sky battles. With the infinite respawn lock on the server death was not a risk, and to Techno, it took all the fun out of it. Even the duels were hardly high stakes, with the only thing on the line being your money and your dignity. And no one was challenging him anymore anyway.   
Then he arrived.   
No one knew where he came from, as cliche as it was, and anyone he asked just looked at him blankly. He came out of nowhere. If Techno had thought about it for any longer, he might have realized he also came _from_ nowhere. They called him Herobrine, and Techno’s curiosity was piqued. The name was ringing some distant, mouldering bell in his mind, a sting of recognition, but he couldn’t place where.   
He took Hypixel by storm, amassing a following among the non-competitors that visited the server to spectate. They had never met face to face, but he was climbing the leaderboard like a creeper was hissing behind him. Techno wouldn’t admit he got nervous, but to say he wasn’t would be a lie. Nothing stopped him, and as far as he could tell, nothing could.   
Herobrine knocked out the second place competitor, and Techno decided something had to be done. The first place spot was his crowning glory, his authority as the metaphorical king of Hypixel.   
And this- this just wouldn’t do.


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So every few chapters there’ll be a short interlude for plot reasons, it’s the best way I’ve come up with bar giving it a whole chapter heh

In the pits of darkness somewhere on the sleeping server, a monster groaned, rubbing his temples with one mailed hand. The vessel had been fighting him, and he hadn’t had the chance to regroup since the destruction of that petty little country in the centre of his lands.  
“How many got through,” he asked the man kneeling before him. Punz swallowed.  
“Several, my lord.” he said slowly, carefully. “It appears that after the Guardian broke through when Schlatt died, your defenses were weakened, and when Wilbur fell it allowed the gate to remain open for almost half an hour. A few were waiting, evidently.”  
“Anyone of threat?”  
“Vikkstar and lazar are no threat, my lord. The Captain may pose a challenge, but she’s- well, she’s filling creeper holes. There’s a strange man called Connor, but he sleeps most of the time. Honestly, we have no clue why he joined. But- the morning star mage, sir,” his voice dropped to a fearful whisper. “He got through the next day, and he’s- he’s powerful, I can feel it. I’ve only been near him once, but my magic nearly drained.”  
The monster growled, long and low, a sound no human chest could expel. Punz squeezed his eyes shut.  
“That slipspawn,” he spat. “He’ll have to be dealt with. “But for now, keep an eye on him. If he can be swayed, he could be useful.”  
The monster fell silent, and after almost a full minute of silence, Punz tentatively inquired, “And what now, my lord?”  
“I have someone to deal with,” he snarled, sweeping to his feet abruptly. Punz flinched back. “That petulant brat I got exiled, he’s more than he knows.”  
Punz tightened his grip on his sword handle, a habitual movement. “Is he- is he the Hero?”  
The monster stopped dead, turning slowly. Punz would have laughed at the clichely villainesque posturing if he wasn’t terrified. “What do you know about that?” the monster rumbled.  
“Only the stories,” Punz said carefully.  
“Hmm.” Punz lowered his eyes to the ground as the monster scrutinized him. “From what I have gathered, the Hero is using him as a vessel. He’s got more magic than a child of his age should.”  
“Why don’t you just kill him then?”  
“Because the Hero is clever. The child obviously doesn’t know he’s being used, and I can't harm the Hero unless he’s joined to the vessel.”  
“So why bother exiling him?”Punz asked, daring to push.  
“It’s fun. And with any luck, the Hero will defend his vessel, exposing himself and putting him at my mercy.”  
Punz bowed his head to the ground, then stood.  
“Your orders, my lord?”  
“Go about your life.” the monster said, staring blankly. “Bring no suspicion to yourself. I’ll need you, soon.”  
“Of course,” Punz murmured, trying not to think about what those words meant. He slunk away into the darkness, lantern light glinting off the torc around his neck and the handle of the sword at his waist. The monster watched him go, adjusting his mask.  
This server was so much _fun._


End file.
